


Finding Light in the Night

by completelyhopeless



Series: Puzzle Pieces of Us [8]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, during five year gap, minor bits of canon pairings, mostly artemis/wally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick continues to make his way back towards himself and takes his final steps toward becoming Nightwing. It's two steps forward, three steps back, but he's working on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Light in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tuxedo_Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuxedo_Elf/gifts).



> Well, I said I'd do this as a fill for the prompt: _[DCU, Batfam, any](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/594617.html?thread=83056313)_
> 
> _There are seven bridges to be crossed_  
>  _Seven years of darkness to survive_  
>  _Seven times in oceans to be lost_  
>  _But then I’ll see the shining light_
> 
> _From this song:_  
>  _http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/chrisdeburgh/sevenbridges.html_
> 
> How well I managed to get anywhere close to that... well, that's debatable.
> 
> Also... I'm a bit iffy on my characterization of Wally. I do think he'd want to do anything to get Dick back the way he was, and that would cause strain like it did here. I just hope... it's not too unfair or unbalanced. He's not the bad guy. He just doesn't know how to help. No one really does.

* * *

“You look nervous. Why are you nervous? We did good work, didn't we?”

Barbara stopped, putting a hand on Jason's shoulder, and he smiled up at her, but he was nervous. He didn't know if Batman was going to take Robin back when they got home or not. He knew that Bruce had said Dick wasn't coming back, but he still didn't know that he believed it.

“Yes, Jason, we did good work,” Barbara said. She forced a smile. “I'm just... I guess I hope Kid Flash doesn't wake up for a while yet. I know he'll want to come straight here, and Dick could use a bit of warning first.”

Jason made a face. “Right. Sure. Everything's about—Whoa. What happened to Batman?”

“Joker,” Dick answered, and Jason's stomach plummeted when he saw him in the black suit and mask. He _was_ going to take back Robin. He shook his head. “Don't panic. Either of you. I was... the only one who could get him, that's all.”

Barbara forced a bit of a smile. “It almost suits you.”

“Alfred disagrees. He's probably going to alter it when he's done with the cookies and trying to keep Bruce still long enough to let some of that heal,” Dick said, shrugging slightly. “You... gonna stay for the cookies?”

“Not for very long,” Barbara said. “I should get back to Dad. I just... can't do it wearing this.”

“Go ahead and shower,” Dick said. “You can bring your dad a cookie or two. I'm sure that will help smooth the ruffled feathers.”

“You're advocating cookies? I thought—”

“Seriously, Babs, this guy wins if he makes me give up cookies. That can't happen. I love cookies, especially _Alfred's_ cookies.”

“Can't have that.” She smiled back at him, leaning in to his ear. Jason didn't catch whatever she said, but he nodded, giving her another fake smile that died as soon as she spoke again. “I'm not the only one who needs a shower, Former Boy Wonder. You are kind of rank.”

He glared at her, and she laughed as she walked away. Jason watched her, but then he didn't know where to go or what to do. Batman was unconscious on the other cot, and without him to tell Jason what to do, then he didn't have to give up Robin just yet. He felt stupid, but he figured that if he didn't take off the suit, he could hold onto it for a little longer. He had to keep it.

“Are you sure you don't want it back?” Jason asked, sounding nervous. “Really sure?”

“The costume? Relax, Little Wing. It wouldn't fit me anymore,” Dick said, and Jason had to admit it was true. When he'd met Dick, the guy was almost his same size—thinner, yeah, but about the same height which made it easy for Jason to get his suit. Now Dick was a lot taller. Still skinny, though.

“You know what I meant,” Jason said. He hadn't had a chance to ask before, but now he had to ask, had to know. “Are you really sure you don't want to be Robin anymore?”

“When the little punk looks so cute in the uniform?”

Jason's fist reacted first, going for Dick, but the real Robin dodged him easily. He might have hit the wall, but he was still better at this than Jason was, and Jason hated that. “Stop it, Dick. This isn't funny. It's not a joke, damn it. It's...”

“Robin is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Jason started to deny it, but he couldn't. It _was._ Being Robin was good—it was _awesome_ —and it meant living in this house—and even if he didn't get a cent of Bruce's money, he didn't care because it gave him a home and these people that—they were family. He had lost his when his mom died, but somehow now he had Bruce for a father—or was Alfred the father?—and Dick as a brother and Barbara as a sister. That was what they'd claimed the other day. Jason needed this. He couldn't lose this, couldn't lose Robin. 

“Yes.”

Dick sighed as he put a hand on Jason's shoulder. “Like I already said, relax.”

“Relax?” Jason demanded. “How am I supposed to relax? You're back now. You're going to be Robin again.”

“I can't be Robin anymore. I—” Dick choked on whatever he almost said. “—I outgrew it, you know? Can't be the Boy Wonder forever.”

Jason snorted. “You're not even eighteen yet. You don't expect me to believe that, do you?”

Dick smirked. “Like you want to wear _that_ costume for the rest of your life.”

Jason frowned, looking down at his costume. Robin was kind of dorky, and this one was still kind of nasty from the mission. “You _might_ be right. This once. Only this once, though.”

Dick laughed. “Come on, Jaybird. Let's get out of these suits and go have some of Alfred's cookies.”

* * *

Wally smelled cookies the moment he got into the cave, but even with his stomach growling at him, he had one thing and only one thing on his mind. He had to find his friend. He needed to see Dick with his own eyes, needed to know that he was—right there. Right there about to eat a cookie.

“Dude! You're back! You're alive! You're... in black. We gonna go with mini-Bats for your codename now? That it, huh? I kind of like it myself,” Wally said, rushing around his friend and studying the look. Thinner, yeah, but taller—hey, since when was Dick as tall as he was? He wasn't. That hadn't happened.

“Master Wallace—”

“I am so glad you're alive and not dead!” Wally said, doing what he should have from the moment he first got into the cave. Forget the cookies. Forget anything else. He was way overdue for this—they both were. Time for a hug. He went to wrap his arms around his friend.

Then, before he knew what was happening—and he should have because he was fast, really fast, he was on the ground and his nose was bleeding. Gushing, really. “Uh, dude...”

“You sound ridiculous,” Robin observed, sounding like the little brat was enjoying that.

“Shut up,” Wally said, accepting the cloth Alfred held out to him. “Damn, Dick, what did I do to piss you off? You've never done anything like that to me even when I _did_ deserve it, and I know I didn't do anything this time. I couldn't have. You've been gone for so long...”

“You touched me,” Dick said, sounding pretty miserable himself and looking kind of pale, though everything was kind of skewed with Wally's nose bleeding because of his _best friend._ “That's really all it takes these days.”

Wally would have said more if he wasn't trying to stop the blood. “What?”

“It's called PTSD,” Jason said, muttering an additional insult under his breath that got him a frown from the butler. “Which you would know if you were ever willing to wait and listen when someone's ready to explain to you, but no, you always rush ahead.”

“Excuse me?” Wally said. The only reason he didn't know enough about what was going on was that no one had told him what was going on, and he couldn't ask more because of his nose. “Since when are you in charge of anything?”

“I'm not, but we were about to enjoy our cookies and then you had to come in here and interrupt,” Jason said, and Wally glared at him, taking down the towel now that the bleeding had finally stopped. He did love accelerated healing. “You didn't have to come here. No one asked you to.”

“Easy, Little Wing. He didn't know,” Dick said, putting a hand on the other boy's shoulder. He passed the cookie to Jason, who gave him a look. “I'm sorry, Wals, I... There was a reason I didn't want any of you to come around, why I haven't been come to see the team.”

“You planning on breaking all of their noses, too?”

“I didn't _plan_ anything. It's a knee jerk reaction. I can't control it. I...”

“Dick,” Batman said, pushing himself up on the bed even as Alfred protested. “The stitches...”

“Oh, yeah. I think they definitely tore again,” Dick said, sounding almost drunk but there was no way he'd been drinking. Not in the batcave. Not in his suit. Not when he wasn't legal yet. Not in front of Jason. “Probably back... Did on the trapeze. Yes. And probably on the goon... maybe the wall... and definitely on Kid Mouth.”

“I didn't know,” Wally said, holding up his hands before anyone could hurt him or lecture him. He looked behind him at the bat, seeing the man in worse shape than he'd ever witnessed before, but then again, Batman wasn't usually willing to let someone else's sidekick see him at anything less than his best, even after a hard mission. Despite all that, the guy was trying to fight Alfred to get to Dick, who was holding himself up using the other cot. “Uh, Bats...”

He didn't finish, rushing over to catch Dick just before he fell. “Dude, what happened?”

“I believe his wound is infected, though as to his claim that his stitches were torn after his stunt with the trapeze—that I do not agree with,” Alfred said, pushing Batman back down on the cot. “I examined the wound while he was sleeping. The stitches were intact, if possibly inflamed. I applied some anesthetic and some antibacterial ointment.”

“Did you know the fun thing about gymnastics training? There are all these mirrors on the wall. Not sure why. Guess so you can see your form or something. I don't know. I just know it made it easier to see when I needed to see my back. And I'm almost a contortionist,” Dick said, strangely proud of that fact. “I fixed the stitches on my own. Not bad, right?”

“Why would you do that?” Wally asked, shaking his head at his friend's attempt to free himself and stand on his own. He wasn't hitting half as hard now.

Dick leaned back, blinking. “There was no one else. If I didn't do it, who would?”

“There's someone else _now,”_ Wally said, trying to get Dick up on to the cot. “When did you get so heavy? You used to be such a—”

“Don't listen to him. It's just the armor,” Barbara said, moving in on Dick's other side and helping Wally get him the rest of the way onto the cot. “You are _not_ fat, Dick Grayson, and you never will be. As soon as Alfred takes care of you, you are eating that entire plate of cookies.”

Dick laughed, rolling onto his side. “I think I want cornflakes. You know he wouldn't let me have them, either?”

Barbara frowned. “They're your favorite.”

“I don't think he wanted me having favorites,” Dick said, closing his eyes. Batman made a noise, and Wally looked over to see him trying to get up again.

“Not now,” Alfred told him. “I will see to Master Richard, but you will do him no good if you make your own injuries worse. And do not blame yourself for him going after you. You would have done no less for him. Now rest and I will take care of him.”

Batman groaned. Dick gave a short laugh. “Wally... Babs... Little Wing...”

Wally frowned. “Uh...”

“He wants us to take Jason out of here,” Barbara said. She gave the boy a look. “Yes, I know. You're not a little kid. You can see the big kid stuff.”

“I want to stay.”

“Then you will have to wash up,” Alfred said. “I need a sterile environment to treat these wounds. Go on now. I could use an assistant.”

Jason nodded, pulling his mask off as he ran. Barbara looked like she didn't know if she should smile or cry at that. She turned back to the butler. “Alfred, if I—”

“You should probably return home to your father, Miss Barbara. I will let you know if anything changes in Master Richard's condition, and should we need you to return, Master Wallace can get you here swiftly, I'm sure,” Alfred said as he set about his work. Babs nodded unhappily as she started to walk away.

“I don't understand,” Wally heard himself say. “I thought... I thought when he got back from the mission everything would be fine.”

“It is far from that simple. A part of him may never come back from that mission.”

* * *

“If you do not stop hovering, I will give you more than a broken nose,” Dick warned, adjusting his position again. With his fever gone, he was in more of a state to make good on that threat, and he swore if Wally didn't stop rushing around to make sure he didn't fall or get hurt or breathe—that last one was an exaggeration, but it felt like it these days.

“You wouldn't.”

Dick folded his arms over his chest. “I would.”

“You wouldn't. That's not you.”

“And for the billionth time, Wally, you don't know me anymore,” Dick snapped. If he'd had something to throw at the speedster, he would have done it. He was pissed. He normally had a lot more patience with Wally, but not today. Not now. “Get. Out.”

“You don't mean that. I know you don't mean that. That's not you. You would never—”

“You don't know what I'd do,” Dick said. He didn't even know what he would do. The anger was getting to him, bubbling up and boiling over the surface. He really wanted to hurt something. He kept thinking about hitting the Joker, about how satisfying it had been to knock the clown's teeth out, and while that was normal, the idea of doing the same to his best friend... That wasn't. “Even I don't know what I'll do. Just go. Please.”

“Come on. We haven't hung out in months. You were gone. Then no one told us you were back. Then you were sick—”

“Right now, I am very sick of you, and your superspeed could not get you out of here fast enough because you are not listening to me. I want you gone. I want to hurt you. I think you'd better go before I do. I am not the person you remember and I wish you'd understand that, but you're so stupid you can't see it and won't hear it and...”

Wally stared at him, hurt. “You... You don't mean that.”

The trouble was that Dick thought he did. Right now, at least. He hated himself for it, but he did. He looked away. If Wally stayed, Dick didn't know what he'd do to him. He just needed to be alone again. That was for the best. He should just stay that way, maybe even forever.

“I don't know what happened to you on that mission, but I do know this isn't right. This isn't—”

Dick's pillow connected with Wally's head, and the speedster stared down at it after it hit the floor. Really, he was lucky. Dick could have thrown something a lot harder. He wanted to. And he didn't. He pulled his knees up against his chest. “Just go, okay? Leave.”

“Ordinarily, that would mean war.”

Dick groaned. “Wally, this isn't ordinary. You want your friend back. Wise-cracking, fun loving, word butchering Robin. You don't get it—I am not him. I... I spent months pretending to be someone else, and that... it doesn't just wash off. I was being trained as a killer, and there is a part of me that really wants to strangle you right now. I want you to leave. I _need_ you to leave. If you don't go, I will throw something at you that will do real damage.”

Wally's hand balled into a fist. “I... Fine. You want to be like that, fine. I'm going.”

* * *

“Alfred will be angry if he sees you doing that.”

“I think he'll be just about as mad about it as he would be seeing you down here again,” Bruce observed, looking back from the punching bag to see his son standing behind him. “After that stunt with you pulling your stitches, I think he was about to change his opinion on you being allowed in the batcave.”

Dick grimaced. “Do we really have to go back to the overprotective thing?”

“You think it ever stopped?” Bruce asked, amused. Dick blinked, and Bruce steadied the bag before walking over to him. “It doesn't. Alfred is a parent. A grandparent, I suppose. He will never stop worrying about either of us.”

Dick looked away, and Bruce stepped closer to him. “What is it? I thought you were upstairs with Wally—”

“I made him leave. He's... I wanted to hurt him,” Dick admitted. He looked up to Bruce's eyes, holding his gaze. “I _did._ I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands. I am so sick of everyone waiting for me to break. Newsflash: I already did it. I broke and I cracked and I crossed lines and I can't come back from it. I am tired of everyone wanting me to be what I was. I can't do it. I can't. I'm so... I used to want them all to stay away because I was... ashamed. Or afraid. Now I'm not afraid. I'm... I'm angry. I am angry all the time. I think about hitting Wally the way I hit the Joker and I _want_ to do it.”

Bruce watched him, waiting. That tirade wasn't his son, and he wanted to say that, but he knew better than most that expecting someone to be one way didn't make them that way at all. Dick was his own person, and he was dealing with something no one should have had to go through. The mission had changed him. They all had to accept that, but he had a feeling that many of them would rather return things to the way they'd been before. That attitude was a disservice to all of them. Dick would not get past his pain if he felt he had to hide it to be someone he wasn't.

That was probably where all this anger was coming from.

“Bruce,” Dick said, “I... I'm starting to think I was wrong about why I couldn't be Robin, that I wasn't really scared of what I might do but of how much I'd enjoy it. I... I think I would... I... He was making me into a killer. I was getting closer and closer to it and I was good at what I was doing. I really was. It... It almost felt like an extension of what I was doing as Robin or with you...”

“Dick,” Bruce said, putting his hands on his son's shoulders. “You have every right to be angry. You went through something no one should have to go through. You might think that because you agreed to the mission that you should just accept what happened, that you brought it all on yourself. It was your choice and you deserved it—”

“I did choose it,” Dick said. “I chose to go on the mission and I—I could have stopped it. I could have gotten help, been rescued and taken out of there, but I didn't. I didn't ask for help. I didn't stop them. I didn't.”

“You did. You stopped them from their end goal and from killing or hurting any other kids they way they did you,” Bruce said. He shook his head. The ends did not justify the means in this case, could not justify what had happened to his son and how much Dick was suffering. “You didn't stop what happened to you and that's different. That... That is where your anger is. You're mad at yourself for the pain and the trauma and for the part of you that wishes you'd made a different choice that wars with the part of you that thinks you would have been a coward or a wimp if you did. Neither of those things is true, but you are not the sort that takes failure lightly. This is an impossible situation—you either failed by not calling for help or you failed by not completing the mission. You know the choice you made. You know you completed the mission. You just feel as though you failed to save yourself.”

Dick stared up at Bruce, and it took everything Bruce had not to crush his son in his arms again. Right now that wasn't the answer, hadn't been for weeks. Dick's ability to tolerate any kind of touch from Bruce was low. He refused to push that button when Dick needed him most.

“How can I be mad at myself for not saving myself when I did things that weren't worth saving? I don't... I didn't deserve to be saved. I don't.”

Oh, the hell with it. Dick was just going to have to fight him. Bruce pulled him into his arms. “I don't believe that. You know what I've done. Do you think I'm not worth saving?”

“You're Batman.”

“Just because you're in transition doesn't mean you're somehow worth less. You may not be Robin, but that doesn't mean you, Dick Grayson, do not matter. You matter to me. You always have. You're my son and my partner and I owe you my life.”

Dick pulled away from him, less violently than usual. He still looked lost, fidgeting like he needed to move but couldn't figure out what to do. “I hate this. All of it.”

“You remember discussing the stages of grief?”

“Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.”

“Exactly. You've been in the denial and isolation phase. You even experienced part of the depression. Now you're angry.”

Dick snorted, going over to the punching bag and hitting it hard enough to rattle the chain. “You think that I am... what, grieving the loss of my former life? That I can get through this once I pass through the final stage of that?”

“I think,” Bruce said, “that you could use an outlet for your anger.”

“You... want me to train again, don't you?”

His son really was too perceptive at times. “Plenty of people use routines similar to ours as physical outlets. Some of them were even developed for that reason. You have never been one to bottle what you feel, Dick. You need to let it out before it poisons you.”

“I...”

“You don't have to spar with anyone until you feel comfortable, and if you're worried about hurting someone, I'll get Clark to come help you with it.”

Dick's mouth thinned into a line, and Bruce thought he was about to say no and leave the cave when he finally nodded. “Okay. I'll train. This doesn't mean I'm going back to... to anything, but I have felt like punching something for days and better a bag than Wally's face.”

* * *

“There you are.”

Barbara forced herself not to react instinctively to the ambush. She knew the voice, and she knew where she was, and Mount Justice was safe. She knew there had been attacks there in the past, but she didn't believe Artemis was a traitor, and she wasn't going to start doubting now.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry. That came out a bit... wrong. It's just—I've been waiting for someone on the bat team to show up for a while, but it's like all of you have been avoiding us. You and Robin aren't doing any missions, and even Batman hasn't shown up to brief us in person,” Artemis said. She turned her bow over in her hand. “I'm not sure I would have thought it was that big of a deal if not for Wally.”

“Wally?” Barbara asked, hoping to delay this a little. She had a feeling she knew what it was about, but she didn't want to get into this. She hated being caught in the middle.

“Yeah, Wally. He's been moping for days now, and if I've been watching for one of you to show up, then he's been ten times worse, only he won't admit it. He's freaked out, and I know what it's about. I think we're all starting to feel it. We just don't have the same sensitivity to it that Wally does because he goes way back with the original Robin.”

“You think something happened to him.”

Artemis let out a breath. “I'm not sure. Wally has seen him, that much I know, but he won't talk about it now, either. Just lay it on me—how bad is it? If the guy is dead—”

“No, he's not.” Seeing that Artemis didn't believe her, Barbara let out a breath. “Batman wasn't doing the briefings because he got injured in a fight with the Joker. It's the same reason Robin and I haven't been assigned to any missions. He was as much on injured leave as Batman ever gets, and we had to stick close to the city. No conspiracy there other than Batman's pride—but don't tell him I said that, okay?”

Artemis grinned. “Your secret's safe with me.”

“Good.”

The archer shook her head. “You're not off the hook yet, though. I have _got_ to do something about Wally. He's either moping or angry or both. I need details if I'm going to keep Wally from doing something stupid—and that's hard enough on a normal day—so you need to tell me what's going on with Robin. The first one. Don't pawn me off with the second one—I love the little punk, but it's the first one I need to worry about right now.”

Barbara sighed. She hated discussing Dick's condition behind his back. She didn't care who it was with. She knew she was lucky—Bruce had never demanded anything from her even with what she'd overheard at the cemetery, but she still felt like she was betraying Dick just talking about it. “He's... He's dealing with the fallout from his mission, and it hasn't been easy for him. He even had a bit of a physical relapse, but he is alive.”

“And we don't get to see this with our own eyes... why, exactly?”

Dick would hate her for this, but the team deserved more of an answer than they'd been given before. “Did Wally mention them fighting?”

“Kind of. He wouldn't go into it.”

“I don't know the details, either, but I do know that Batman lost at least three punching bags afterward,” Barbara said. She rubbed her own shoulder at the memory. “I—He told me, told all of us that he didn't want to see the team because he was afraid he'd hurt someone. I think that someone was Wally. He's a great guy, but he doesn't know when to quit sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I had to watch him when he had his crush on Miss Martian.”

Barbara nodded. “I think it's just going to take a lot more time than anyone thought. Well, he might have thought it because he set up things like he would be gone a year and he hasn't been, but I swear he probably had a backup plan in case he did die.”

“Like getting another kid to be Robin?”

“Yeah.”

“And getting you to join Batman.”

“That, too.”

“You don't really think he was planning on dying, do you?”

Barbara shook her head. “No, I don't. I think he did as much as he could in case it happened, but I don't think he went out there trying to get himself killed. It's just... He knows what this life is like. He knows the risks. He was more prepared for not making it back than he was for coming back.”

“He's not coming back to the team, is he?”

Barbara let out a breath. She knew they'd all had some hope of Dick doing that when he went after Bruce—seeing Dick in armor again was both exciting and frightening—but he'd gotten an infection that put him back on the disabled list and put his mood back in the toilet—so she didn't think it was as much of a sign of hope as they'd all wanted it to be.

“Honestly, I don't know if he'll come back. I don't even know if he _wants_ to come back.”

* * *

“How could he _not_ want to come back?”

“Wally—”

“He helped _found_ this team. He was the one that hacked the Justice League's computer and lead us into our first mission as team. We broke into Cadmus together. We found sublevels. We freed Superboy. We fought clones. We...” Wally shook his head. “No way. I know he's got this—Miss Martian. That's it. We need you to go inside Rob's head and get him back to normal.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Wally insisted. “He needs it. You don't—you guys haven't seen him. I have. Trust me, that is _not_ him. That's not our friend. He would never do what that jerk did.”

Kaldur shook his head. “I do not know what Robin experienced on that mission, but I know we do him a great disservice by this discussion. It is not our place to decide how he recovers from his mission, nor can we force him to rejoin us on the team.”

“Kaldur's right,” Artemis said. “We have to give him the time to come back to us.”

“You're not—you don't mean that. Why do you always side against me? I thought we were dating. You're supposed to have my back.”

“And I _do.”_ She shook her head. “I have your back in all the ways that matter, but I am not going to go force Robin to get rejoin the team. I think I know a few things about people trying to force you down a path you don't want to take, okay? If we do that, we could lose him forever. In my case, I'm glad my dad kind of lost me, but... this is Robin. We don't want to push him away.”

“I know we don't, but if you'd seen him—it's not him. It's like someone else took over, and that's a perfect case for Miss Martian.”

“Stay out of his head,” Superboy said. “If he wanted it, he'd ask. He doesn't want it.”

“I wouldn't do anything Robin didn't want,” Miss Martian said, looking pained. “I... I think it's best if we just let him come back to us.”

“What about Zatanna? She liked him. She could just magic him back to what he was.”

“No.”

“But, guys... If you'd seen him...”

* * *

It wasn't like Dick to fight so aggressively.

Bruce had trained him not to let his anger dictate the movements of a fight. Getting angry meant losing control. Losing control meant losing the battle. Dick would smirk and call him Yoda whenever Bruce lectured him on fighting in anger. Bruce found he actually missed that. These days, even if Dick was training with him, he didn't tease or make jokes. He was too intense, too focused.

He wasn't like himself.

The laughter was gone. The smiles were gone. Everything about this fight screamed wrong except Dick's technique, which was near flawless. Bruce had trouble finding an opening for an attack, and Dick was better at blocking than he had been when he left.

“'Anger. Fear. Aggression.'”

A year ago, Dick would have finished the quote. This time Dick just spun out of the way and met his eskrima stick to Bruce's without comment.

“'The dark side are they,'” Bruce went on, waiting for a reaction, but Dick just frowned and moved into another fighting style. Normally that would have been a good tactic, useful for throwing him or another opponent off, but Bruce was watching and analyzing every move his son made these days. He expected the shift and countered it easily. “'Once you start down the dark path...'”

“'Forever will it dominate your destiny.' Yeah, I got that one. I'm kind of there,” Dick said, dropping his sticks and walking away from the mat.

* * *

“You're not eating the cookies.”

“It's not a weight thing, Babs. Don't fuss.” Dick looked over at her and groaned. “Do not tell me that Bruce made you come be my babysitter because I walked off the mat. Seriously? I am not a little kid. The whole point of me doing any training at all is to get the anger out, and he wants to do what keeps pissing me off in the first place?”

“No. I am not here to babysit you. No one could get paid enough to babysit you,” Barbara said, sitting down next to him. She nudged him with her hip, and he frowned at her. “Come on. You do not need that much space on the couch. You're still skinnier than I am.”

“I told you this wasn't a weight thing,” Dick said, grunting with annoyance before scooting over out of her way. “Those are Jason's cookies. He left them when he went to join Bruce.”

“And you stayed out of them.”

“I can respect people's privacy even if they don't respect mine,” Dick said. She gave him a look and he sighed. “Okay, that was a bit uncalled for, but it's... Leaving aside my issues for once—if I eat Jason's cookies, then I start him freaking out about me taking back Robin again. The kid is way too insecure about that. I'm not going to do anything that feeds that.”

“Ah ha,” Barbara said, reaching over to pat him on the chest. “That's still in there. And you thought it was gone.”

“What?”

“The big heart. The cares too much for everyone bit that makes you Dick Grayson? That is still in there, and you just proved it without even thinking about it.”

“Sometimes I hate you,” he told her. “I might even hate you more than I hate Wally right now, which is saying something because he wants me to have a martian look at my head.”

Barbara sighed. “He's worried about you. That's all. You know you haven't been the same, and it scares him. He thinks it can be made right by... by science. Martian physiology overcoming human psychology.”

Dick closed his eyes, shaking his head as he did. “It's not that simple. It's... I have to live with what I did. What I didn't do. The choices I made. Unless someone goes in and erases the whole mission, it won't work. And I'm... I'm not going to do that. I know I'm not who I was. Denying and erasing my memories... It's not a fix. I just... I have to learn to live with who I am now.”

“Do you know how you're going to do that?”

“No. I still don't know where to start.”

“I... I did have a thought, but I am not sure you're going to like it,” Barbara admitted, and Dick opened his eyes to look at her. “Now I think I should just get you to go see Haly's again. Never mind my stupid idea.”

“They're on a European tour again. I guess I could go see Zitka, but I won't be getting up on the trapeze again.”

“Dick, honestly... you were the most yourself when you were on the trapeze and when you rescued Bruce, right?”

“Um... yes?”

“So... assume you're going to go back to working the trapeze. Or that you are going to go out as a costumed vigilante. What is the first thing you need?”

“A lot of training and a masochistic streak.”

She laughed. “Well, maybe, but besides that—and don't say anything about an overinflated sense of justice or right and wrong.”

“You want me to design a costume.”

“It could be fun.”

“It's kind of insane.”

“So are you.”

He laughed, reaching for her hand. “You know, Babs, I never said this before, but... I think I'm glad you overheard me at the cemetery. I... I don't think I could have done this without you. I still don't want to talk about it or want anyone else to know, but... it helps that you do.”

“I know. Come on. Let's see if we can get a reaction out of Alfred by our designs.”

“You are kind of evil,” he told her, and then he grinned. “I kind of like it.”

“It goes with the new you,” she told him, pulling him up by the hand.

* * *

“You are not usually this angry when you fight.”

Bruce grunted, dodging Clark's attack. Superman was strong, and he relied on that too much. He telegraphed his next move every time, despite how many times Bruce had warned him about that. It might not matter to the Kryptonian, but Bruce made a note to ensure that Superboy wasn't doing the same. Canary would know, but Bruce hadn't asked about the team's combat readiness in a long time.

His focus was far from the team unless he sent Jason or Barbara on a mission.

He had Gotham to worry about.

He had _Dick_ to worry about.

“I can see why you wanted to spar with me, though,” Clark went on. “I'm one of few people capable of taking the kind of punishment you're dealing out. I figure you'd rather fight it out than talk about it, but you could do both.”

“If I wanted to talk, I'd go to someone else.”

“This is about Dick, isn't it?”

Bruce rolled out of the way of Clark's fist at the last moment. He glared at the Kryptonian as he picked himself back up, disliking the clumsiness of his own movement.

“I've had some... conversations about him. Most of the team is concerned. He needs to go see them, Bruce. Wally is the only one who has seen him, and he is worried. He has asked Miss Martian and Martian Manhunter to examine him.”

“Dick doesn't want that. He doesn't even need that. Wally is pushing for something Dick isn't. He won't get it.”

“You're angry about that, too.”

“I'm angry because it's two steps forward three steps back every damn time with this. Just when Dick is starting to make progress, something derails it and puts him back further than he was before. He rescues me from the Joker and seems like himself for all of five minutes before he's hitting his friend and horrifying everyone by telling us how he used mirrors for first aid because no one else was there to help him. He gets sick, his friend gets overprotective, and he tells me he'd like to do worse than hit Kid Flash. So I try and find him an outlet for his anger. He turns training into another sign he's gone too far to the dark side and won't speak to me for days. Barbara gets him to consider costumes and I think he's had another breakthrough only to have him break down on me in training. Again.”

Clark stopped, frowning. “You said he quit training. He... came back to it?”

Bruce nodded. “He did. I think he still finds it useful for calming his moods—he's had a lot of them—and part of the 'fun' in considering costumes was putting one on to mock Alfred with.”

Clark fought a smile. “That I wish I'd seen. It sounds like he was doing well.”

“Right up until I complimented him on a new move. He apparently picked that up while he was on the mission, and using it was a reflex that led right into a panic attack and a flashback. Now he's back in his room refusing to see anyone.”

“And you're here beating up on me.”

“Clark—”

“No, I understand your frustration,” Clark said. He sighed. “I wish I knew of something that could help. I don't think having someone alter Dick's memories is the answer, though some coping mechanisms for the trauma could aide him—”

“Dick is adamant about having no one in his head. I think it would be a fight to get him to use a telepathic link again.”

“I know, and I'm not advocating that. Do you think Dick would be willing to come to my fortress of solitude?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“A change of scenery helped before. It might again.”

“Barbara tried to talk him into going to visit his elephant. If Zitka can't get him out of his room, I don't think Superman will.”

Clark frowned. “You don't think I can do better than an elephant?”

“No.”

* * *

“Not like that,” Dick said, his tone scolding and making Jason want to hit him. “Look, it feels unnatural at first, and that way _seems_ better than this one, but you'll end up breaking your wrist that way. Hold it like this. There. Now follow thorough and—See? You've got it.”

Jason looked at him. “You are such a dork. You better not be teaching me this just to mess with me and make me look stupid in front of the others.”

“You do that fine on your own,” Dick said, and Jason lunged for him. Laughing, Dick flipped easily out of his path, reminding Jason of how easily this stuff came to him. He swore Dick was one of those people whose every move was _fluid._ The kind of person that defined graceful. Jason wouldn't even know what that meant if not for the jerk in front of him.

“You are such a dick. Why does anyone like you?”

“I have my moments, I guess,” Dick said, stopping with a frown. “You know what? To tell you the truth—I really don't know. Especially now.”

Damn. If Bruce was here, Jason would be in so much trouble for getting _that_ look on his face. That was Dick close to locking himself in his room again, and if he did that, then Jason really _would_ be in trouble. Then again... Jason had somehow gotten the guy out of his room this time. He still didn't know how he'd managed that, though.

The zeta tube activated, and they were both distracted by it announcing Batman's arrival followed by that of Superman. Dick made a face.

“What are you two up to?”

“Dick was trying to show me a move.”

“I _showed_ you a move. You're the one that refuses to learn it and when you break your wrist doing it, I'll get to say I told you so,” Dick said, and Jason stuck his tongue out at him. Dick laughed and ruffled his hair. “You know you should have left it red. Black isn't really you.”

“Black is Robin, though, and I'm Robin.”

“Yes, you are,” Dick agreed. His voice got quiet, and it took him a minute before Superman clearing his throat made him “I'm not taking it back. I promise.”

“Yeah, sure you're not.”

“Would it make you feel better if I found a name to use? Then you wouldn't have to worry about it, would you?” Dick asked, and Jason stared up at him, not sure how to take that. If Dick took a name, he'd go back to work, and that meant he'd be replacing Jason again no matter what name he used. Bruce wanted his old partner back and Jason knew it.

“Is there a mission?” Jason asked instead, turning to Batman and Superman. “I can use the new move Dick taught me if there is.”

The two men exchanged a look. Jason would have thought they were having a mental conversation if a telepath was around, but neither of them could do that without help, so they couldn't be. In the end, Batman grunted and Superman gave Jason a smile. “I think I have something you can do—if you want to come with me for a change.”

Jason shrugged, trying to pretend it didn't matter at all. He knew others went on assignments with Superman. Not many, but it was still cool that he could go every once and a while. “Okay, whatever.”

“Unless you need him?”

Batman shook his head. “Gotham's been pretty quiet. If Jason wants to go, he's free to go. You could even probably take Dick or Barbara if they wanted to go.”

Jason felt his stomach twist up. He knew it was wrong, but he didn't want the others along. Especially not Dick. 

“Barbara has finals this week. There's no way,” Dick said. “She told me that she'd make _me_ go out as Batgirl if the city needed something because she was not about to let her G.P.A. drop even a fraction of a point.”

“And you?”

“Pass. I have a date with an elephant.”

Batman started laughing, full on _laughing,_ and Jason frowned, trying to decide if someone was impersonating him or if he'd been exposed to a toxin by Joker or something. Superman grimaced, but he did manage to smile after a moment.

“Let us hope this will even the steps,” he said, and Batman nodded. Jason shook his head at both of them, looking back at Dick. The other boy looked like he didn't care that Jason was leaving with Superman again, but Jason wanted to believe he did, that maybe he was jealous for once, and even if he wasn't—well, Jason made sure to stick his tongue out at Dick as he left.

* * *

“As much as I don't want to agree with Wally, if you go out in that, you will be called mini-Bats.”

“What?” Dick demanded loud enough to get Bruce to look over at him and Barbara. They were sitting on one of the cots, cross-legged and out of uniform, the various iterations of Dick's costume arrayed around them. “You've got to be kidding me. What about this says bat to you? It's just generic body armor. In black, sure, but there's no insignia, no cape, no cowl...”

“Just a mini-Bat,” she said with a grin and he shoved her, getting her to laugh harder. Bruce had to admit it was a nicer sound to have echo around the cave than the usual cries of pain from one of their injuries or the noise of their training. He found it distracting enough to keep him from what he should be doing on the computer.

“That is so rich coming from the girl who totally sold out,” Dick said, and Barbara stopped laughing. “You thought I'd forgotten about our conversation, didn't you? Whatever happened to making your costume unique and different and choosing an identity that had nothing to do with Batman or Robin?”

“Dad found the suit in my closet,” she objected, and Dick gave her a look of disbelief. “I was afraid he knew about me sneaking out to help Robin, so I told him it was my costume for the charity masquerade. He was still suspicious, so I tried to make it look more like Catwoman's, but when Killer Moth attacked the party and I needed to stop him, I added a cape and next thing I know, I'm Batgirl.”

Dick shook his head. “We had such great plans... You ruined them all.”

“Shut up. It's still better than anything you came up with lately, English Challenged Wonder.”

That could have hit a nerve given Dick's heritage, but he didn't react to that. “Making up words is a part of speaking American English, trust me. I speak English just fine.”

She snorted. “Discowing?”

“Hey, that fit the outfit. It was perfect for the outfit. I'm not wearing the outfit, though. I just liked seeing Alfred and Bruce's reaction to it,” Dick said, laughing again. “I have never seen Alfred that lost for words and unable to keep up his calm facade. It was awesome. Bonus points for Bruce's stare and Jason's colorful description.”

Bruce shook his head. “I, for one, am relieved that was just your twisted sense of humor.”

“Would you have been embarrassed to fight beside me if I wore it?”

“Yes.”

Dick almost fell over he was laughing so hard. “Total win. If I thought I wouldn't die of embarrassment, I'd so do it. Put on the suit and fight at your side.”

Bruce almost wished he would. He wasn't that desperate to have Dick back with him, though.

“You do call Jason 'Little Wing,'” Barbara said. “Hmm. Maybe we should call you 'Big Wing' or—I know. 'Wing Nut.'”

Dick grimaced. “What, because my name is Dick we should carry that over to my superhero persona? I don't think so.”

Bruce would never allow that. “Absolutely not.”

Barbara smiled. “Alright. Let's think of something else, then. You're keeping the black, right? So we could pull something from that. Or maybe play on the fact that you're the son of the Dark Knight. What do you think?”

“I think we're putting way too much effort into something just to reassure Jason,” Dick said, hopping down from the cot.

The computer bleeped with an alert, and Bruce looked back at it, almost cursing when he did. “League alert. You'd better get changed, Barbara.”

She nodded, jumping down off the cot and following him.

* * *

“Think he's not coming, Commish?”

Gordon grunted. He didn't want to answer that because he had a bad feeling that Bullock might be right and they were on their own against one of the city's worst. Joker was still in Arkham, at least, but this wasn't much better.

“Go ahead and turn it off,” Gordon said, shaking his head. He knew the call couldn't always be answered. Batman was only one man, after all, and if the stuff going on overseas was any indication, the Justice League was busy and had probably called for his help already. Perfect time for one of Gotham's homegrown crazies to make his move.

“Thanks for that,” a voice said after the light was off and Bullock had gone inside. Gordon squinted into the darkness, but he couldn't see anyone. “That thing is too bright for my tastes.”

Gordon frowned. That voice was almost familiar. No, it _was_ familiar. That was the voice of the original Robin. He hadn't said anything about Batman replacing the kid—he'd pretended not to notice like he pretended not to notice a lot of things about Batman and Robin. “I was starting to think you were dead, kid.”

“Not quite. You have a lead on Scarecrow or was the light for show?”

“I don't turn that thing on for fun.”

“That's a shame. I would.”

Gordon shook his head. “I don't know what—”

“Send your men to watch over the city's water supply if you haven't already. He may have a more specific target in mind, in which case...”

Gordon waited, but no explanation came. He should be used to that with Batman or any of his associates, but the reemergence of the original Robin had thrown him, especially with the kid's insistence on staying in the dark. “In which case _what,_ Robin?”

“I'm not Robin. I have a theory to test out, though. I'll let you know how it goes.”

* * *

“He's not coming back, is he?” Wally asked when he got Batgirl alone. “Dick's really not coming back, is he?”

She let out a breath. “I... I wanted to believe he was, I thought he was close, but then earlier he said he was just discussing names to reassure Jason he wasn't taking Robin back. He's made it clear he won't be Robin. If he won't choose another name...”

“Yeah,” Wally said, stomach twisting up even though he was low on juice and didn't have anything in there to get sick on. “I understand.”

She put a hand on his arm. “I'm sorry. Still—you know you two _can_ be friends even if he's not a hero anymore. Just stop pushing him to go back to how he was, and you two will be thick as thieves again. I know it.”

Wally nodded, but he knew it wouldn't be the same. Dick was supposed to be Robin. They were going to be heroes together until they were old and gray. If Dick wasn't a hero, would they even have anything in common? They'd become friends because they were heroes, he'd known Dick as Robin first, not the other way around, and this Dick... Wally hated to admit it, but the guy was right.

Wally didn't know him anymore.

* * *

Two hours after turning off the batsignal, Gordon walked outside to find Scarecrow gift-wrapped and waiting for him.

“Kid hasn't lost his touch.”

“Thank you.”

Gordon almost jumped. “Damn it. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You're worse than he is with the shadow thing. At least he has a cape I can see. What happened to the mask that showed your eyes? Or the black and yellow?”

“I changed the lenses on the mask and I told you: I'm not Robin.”

“Then who are you?”

“Honestly? I don't know. I'm still trying to figure that out,” the teen answered, and Gordon thought he saw his shadow moving in the darkness, except that kid had to be a lot taller than he was for Jim to see movement at that height. “You ever felt like you were drowning, Commissioner? Like you were being dragged down by the weight of who you were and who you are and who you're supposed to be?”

“Actually, yes,” Gordon admitted. “First day I took this job I knew I was in over my head, and it was a lot like drowning until your friend started making headway here. I got some breathing room of my own then.”

“You were a good cop before Batman.”

“And you were an ordinary kid before him.”

“Not exactly.”

Gordon frowned. “Did Scarecrow get you with that stuff of his? Do you need a doctor?”

“No,” the kid answered, and Gordon heard the familiar noise as he fired off his grappling hook. “Besides, even if Scarecrow got me, it wouldn't matter. He couldn't make me more afraid of myself than I already am.”

And then the kid was in the air, a shadow against the night sky, and Gordon was left to shake his head, telling himself that when he saw Batman next, the two of them would have a _lot_ to discuss.

* * *

“Dick?”

“Hmm?”

Jason decided he didn't like talking to the older boy when he was hanging upside down, and the weird thing was that Dick did it _all the time._ Now that he'd healed up again, Dick was always hanging on something or doing handstands. It was like the guy had an aversion to being right side up. “Do you have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“The hanging thing?”

Dick considered that for a moment. “No, I don't, but I like it. Why does it bother you so much? I know why it used to make Alfred nervous, but he stopped caring when Bruce started smiling. I think Bruce wishes he could do this all the time, too.”

“You're both crazy.”

Dick laughed. “Really, Little Wing? It took you _that_ long to figure this out?”

“Shut up. I hate you.”

“You don't. Or you wouldn't be talking to me now. What did you want?”

Jason grimaced. Now that he thought about it, it sounded stupid, but if he didn't say something, Dick would just get more annoying. “Did Superman ever tell you that story about Nightwing?”

Dick flipped himself down onto his feet. “No. I don't think so. If he did, I don't remember it. Come on. Let's find Alfred, get some cookies and milk, and you can tell it to me. I'd like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Dick said, ruffling his hair, and Jason reached up to shove his hands away.

* * *

“It's not the same without him.”

“Wally, I hate to break it to you, but we've been without him for almost a year now. That's actually not going to change. We've already adjusted to him being gone,” Artemis said, and he shot her a death glare. She was wrong. He hadn't adjusted. He was still waiting for his best friend to come back.

“Artemis is correct,” Kaldur said. “It has been some time since I have caught myself trying to factor in his presence on a mission and been forced to readjust.”

“It's not that we don't miss him,” M'gann said. “It's just that we are still a team without him. We found a way to cope with his absence, and there is no shame in that.”

“It made us stronger,” Superboy said, and Wally shot him a dirty look.

“Batgirl was right, though. I mean, it'll be difficult for us while he's still got identity issues, but we can still be friends with him even if he's not on the team anymore,” Artemis said, and when Wally started to object, she held up a hand. “Oh, no. Don't even start. You were all friends with Roy even though he wasn't on the team. We were friends with Zatanna before she joined the team. We all have friends who don't belong in this superhero club of ours. Belonging to this team isn't the only reason we care about each other. Even if we left it, we'd still care.”

“Of course we would,” M'gann said. “We'd never abandon our friends just because they quit the team or even if the team got disbanded by the League. We wouldn't give up.”

Wally grunted. He slouched down in his seat, shaking his head at all of them. They just didn't get it. He didn't know why it mattered so much that Dick rejoin the team, but it _did._ He needed to be here. Wally knew he did.

The zeta tube activated, and the computerized voice announced the arrivals of Batman, Robin, and Batgirl. Then another name got added that had Wally jumping out of his seat.

“Recognized. Nightwing, B01.”

“What? I know he said he wasn't coming back, but you can't just erase him out of the system like he doesn't exist. He might not be Robin and he might not be on the team, but you can't give his number away to someone else. It's his. Let it retire with him. It's not like you took Roy's number away from him.”

“Way to overreact, KF,” a familiar voice said. “Your mouth has always been a little too fast for your own good. Would you like to take your foot out of it or do you need help?”

“Rob—Di—I—You're here,” Wally said, zipping over to him and stopping just short of hugging him. “You're not going to break my nose again this time, are you?”

“No,” Dick answered, and Wally stopped to study him, suspicious. “Look, that was a reflex. Part of the whole PTSD thing I was dealing with. And I know I said some stuff—I just really needed you to let me work through this my way.”

“And you did, right? You're good now? All better?”

Dick grimaced. “Let's just go with better. Good is too far, and things are still more on the _dis_ side than the asterous, but I'm—”

“You're here,” M'gann said, managing to squeeze her way through them with her shapeshifting. “We all missed you and worried about you. It's good to see you.”

“You're... taller,” Superboy said, looking Dick over.

“Yeah, that kind of snuck up on me,” Dick admitted, letting go of M'gann as Artemis pushed herself in for a hug of her own. “You're not exactly traught at the moment, are you?”

“You kidding? You're back after almost a year when we thought you were quitting for good. This is no time to be traught.”

“It is good to see you again, my friend. We have all felt your absence and are gladdened by your return,” Kaldur said, and Dick smiled back at him.

“You are back for good, right?” Wally asked. “Please tell me you're back for good.”

Dick frowned. “I'm not entirely sure why you'd want that, but... no. This is a trial thing. I'm still finding my way again.”

“But...”

Dick put a hand on his shoulder. “You are still my friend, and that hasn't changed even with everything else that did. I was angry—not just with you, I was angry with a lot of things—and I haven't stopped being angry, either, but I know why you were pushing. Why everyone was. And it hasn't been easy, but I've found a way to keep going. For now. I'm kind of just... crossing the bridges when I come to them, you know?”

Wally nodded. “Okay. But... we're good, right?”

“Yes,” Dick said, pulling him in for a hug and muttering under his breath. “Idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Mission briefing,” Batman's voice drowned out everyone else's. “Now.”

“Just one more question—where you'd come up with Nightwing, anyway?”


End file.
